


Under the cover of snow, life blooms again

by Nefaria_Black



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst, Azkaban, Family Secrets, Fluff and Angst, Freedom, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Murder, One Shot, Secret Children, Starting Over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22233226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefaria_Black/pseuds/Nefaria_Black
Summary: Azkaban opens, and Rodolphus is free. But before he starts anew, he has a treasure to retrieve
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange, Delphi & Euphemia Rowle, Delphi & Rodolphus Lestrange, Euphemia Rowle & Rodolphus Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Rodolphus Lestrange & Lucius Malfoy, Rodolphus Lestrange & Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Under the cover of snow, life blooms again

**Author's Note:**

> Reader beware: there is murder and mentions of child abuse ahead.

Rodolphus flinched under the light. He had grown used to the grey days, and the grey walls, and the grey bit of sky he could spot in between the bars, and the ever-furious grey sea bashing against rocks and walls alike, its mist entering his cell every now and then, mocking him every time. In the greyness of his days, well past counting now, light like this had been reduced to a faint memory. His own magic was a numbness inside him, an emptiness in his hands.

“Get up, Lestrange. There’s been an amnesty for the lot of you.”

Voices sounded foreign as well, Rodolphus realized. It was English, for he understood it clearly, but the very sound of another human was something he only dreamed of these days. His company had been silent for long, now, or so he thought.

He tried to look up and see, but there was only a silhouette past the halo of the _Lumos_ spell. He found it hard to move, but he eventually persuaded his muscles to pull his bones upright, leaning against the cold wall as he went. His eyes finally adjusted, and he dared look at the wizard standing in the doorway of his cell.

Young, full of vigour, and a blueish hound by his side, keeping the Dementors at bay. Rodolphus tried to picture what he looked like, but his mind could not fathom what damage Azkaban had inflicted upon this time.

“Minister Granger has decreed that any surviving Death Eaters be granted amnesty,” the wizard said, scorn dripping with every word, “and you’re the only one still capable of walking out of here.” There was a dim little smile hidden in the voice. A vengeful little thing.

Only then did Rodolphus register the word. Amnesty. The world outside believed he’d paid the price of his crimes, apparently. The world outside thought he was somehow reformed and fit to re-join it.

Then, the rest of it caught up with his fuzzy mind. The only one still capable of leaving.

“What of,” his voice drowned in a coughing fit, hoarse and unused, “what of Bast? My brother, is he…” He dared not ask it. He could not say it. Rabastan could not be gone from him.

“Dead? No. But he is too far gone, the Dementors did him in. Come along now, I have better things to do.”

The light was gone from his cell at that, and Rodolphus was left to find his balance and his way to the door. He smiled, or he thought he did. His guard was not accustomed to the weight of this place, to the dread in the air. The ever-present rotting spectres had long ceased to cause any affliction upon him. He had grown used to it, the feeling familiar when he had returned. He had very little happiness for them to feed on, and quite a lot of misery of his own. He needed not their soul-ripping kisses to be kept under control.

Not like Bella had needed, in all her magnificent fury. His own soul had been ripped apart by people of flesh and bone, it was damaged enough that the Dementors cared not much for it. And he had learned to hide inside. He had learned to shut his mind down, locked inside himself, all alone with his fading memories.

“Come along, Lestrange! I’m not keeping my Patronus up for you.”

_‘I survived without one long enough, didn’t I? I don’t need your silly dog, the damned things are sick of me.’_

But he hurried still, saying nothing, for there was something that called to him just beyond the door. A draft. A cold, freezing thing that pierced him to his bones, but a draft nonetheless. Proof that another door, somewhere, was indeed open. He took a lungful of it, and though it smelled foul, for he was still in Azkaban, he could swear he had just smelled freedom.

He struggled to keep up. He struggled twice as much not to look into every cell he walked by. Unlocked all of them, and all of them empty of the people he once knew, though some still held their shells. Dreading to see his brother and dreading to never see him again, he walked on. This was the wing of the forgotten after all. All of them too heinous to be remembered by the world outside. All of them left here to eventually die. All of their minds food for the wraiths.

That thought drove a blade into his heart. He could not just leave. He had to try and take his brother with him.

“Where is he?”

“Down there, Lestrange,” his guard said, jutting his chin towards the other end of the hallway, “lolling his head like a Mooncalf. He’s gone. We’ve checked. Move along, or I’m getting out and leaving you for mad as well.”

Rodolphus could not order his feet to move anymore. He stopped, and his guard glared, only to scream over his shoulder.

“Bast! Bast!”

But there was no echoing scream of ‘ _Dolph’_ , like there had always been. Only silence, only emptiness. And the numbness.

“Happy now? Move.”

The wizard spoke no more. Rodolphus followed, tripping over his own feet half a dozen times, wondering where his agility had gone. He had once been a warrior, one capable of spinning and dodging in between mortal curses, with graceful skill and deadly intent. All of that was gone, now. All of that he had left behind, inside the walls of his cell. All of that, but not all of him.

And not all of her.

They reached a room. One he had faint memories of, from the days he had been brought inside. The first time screaming, and cursing, and fighting. The second time quietly, orderly almost, grieving for his wife and the little girl he had left behind.

“How long?” He asked before he took the fresh, clean clothes being pushed into his arms.

“Ten years,” came the harsh answer, “but it should have been the rest of your life.”

He was unceremoniously pushed inside a bathroom of sorts. He had never noticed this third door the other times. Mouldy, and moist, the ceiling too low for him to stand properly, but with running water that could pass as warm, and soap that lacked perfume but worked just fine, and a straight razor with a rusty handle that did its job well enough.

Rodolphus soaked in the first bath he’d been allowed at Azkaban, cutting away and scrubbing off all ten years of imprisonment off his body. Ten long years he had spent inside the misery-covered walls of Azkaban. Ten more, this time. And this time with a heavier heart for company.

This time, there was no Bella screaming her rage at the world in the cell across his. This time, there was no Bast to whom to talk to across the wall. This time, Thorfinn Rowle had been in the cell next to his, and he served as nothing but as a reminder of his utter failure.

He wasn’t supposed to fight at Hogwarts that day. He had been appointed another task by his master, and he had disobeyed his orders for the first time in his life. He had left Malfoy Manor with a bundle on his arms, and entrusted the child within it to another. He had been ordered to keep the child safe, but he had assigned that mission to Euphemia Rowle, and then he had run. He had run for Hogwarts, and he had arrived just in time to see his northern star burn away in all her furious glowing and fall lifeless to the ground. He had heard his master’s fury at her demise, though no one had heard his howl of pain.

In the end, he had nothing. None of her, and none of what remained of her. Only the walls of Azkaban around him.

Now, he had a chance. He could get that child back; he could get his little Bella back, and start over.

oOo

Not right away, because the world still remembered his crimes after all. Not without playing his role as half-mad and completely reformed criminal of the dark. He carried on living on a dingy room near the Leaky Cauldron, forbidden that he was to go anywhere near Knockturn Alley. He carried on eating the meagre stews his small stipend allowed him.

Minister Granger might have seen it fit to release him, but the Ministry she headed had enforced all sort of measures to remain in control of him. He had been allowed a wand, but there were compulsory checks every other week. He had an allowance, but he had to collect it from the Aurors, at the Ministry, and it never went too far. A room and two warm meals a day, and that was it. Castle Lestrange was no longer his, the entirety of Gringotts was strictly off limits.

Rodolphus kept going, day after day, then week after week, then a month and then two, and the world started to forget that he existed, even if he was now free to walk among them. They all wanted to forget the horrors of war, anyway. So they did. Bit by bit, they forgot him.

And bit by bit, he ventured further away from the now unfamiliar magical district of London. A couple of days at a time, then a week, then a dozen days, but always back on time to make his wand check and collect his meek allowance.

In between, he searched for his lost girl, and prepared for their life together.

He would have one chance at this, and one chance only. Were he to ruin it, and it would all be lost. He would be thrown into Azkaban for good, probably given to the Dementors on his first day, and the little girl he had last seen asleep in Euphemia’s arms would be lost to him forever.

oOo

Time moved slowly only when he was in London. Whenever he left, it seemed to fly. All he needed was a little more time, a little more daylight. He wanted to have everything ready for her.

Above all, he _needed her_ , and he needed Euphemia to agree to him taking her.

Rowle House precise location was unknown to most people in the Inner Circle. The Dark Lord had known of its whereabouts, and so did he and perhaps Narcissa, but Rodolphus doubted anyone else, apart from the owners, knew it. He suspected not even Bella knew where, exactly, her precious child would be raised. Their master had been an unforgiving and jealous one. He did not share. He would not share Bella with their child, and he would not have Bella running back and forth from her little girl, her mind distracted by every teething fever and childhood malady.

No, his master had hidden his daughter from the world completely, and the world would not learn of her until he deemed so. He had tried to simply Apparate to Rowle House, but that had proven impossible, and he’d nearly Splinched at least twice.

So Rodolphus searched, every time more desperately, for any trace of Euphemia Rowle. He wrecked his already damaged memories for information, trying to remember anything that could provide a clue.

And as the winter settled in, with its chilling nights and unforgiving winds, Rodolphus caught a glimpse of a witch on his way back from the Ministry. Not Euphemia, not the witch he was hoping he could follow home. No, another. One as purely bred as himself, one that had been hailed as saviour of the Boy Who Lived, and left the war behind her without ever tasting the miserable air of Azkaban.

Narcissa Malfoy, wrapped in a dark cloak, running errands in plain daylight. Her pale hair slightly touched by silver, in a manner that only increased her splendour. Her long hands covered by fine leather. Rodolphus noticed the quality of it all. He, too, had worn fine fabrics once, and not even Azkaban could pry the knowledge of luxury from a wizard of superior stock like him. Good, heavy wool, and sturdy leather on her boots. Whatever had happened after the war, if the Malfoys were still this well off, it seemed that Euphemia and Delphini would have more than enough to lead a comfortable life.

 _‘Good,’_ he thought, _‘Delphini will have warm clothes already. I’ll probably fit into Thorfinn’s old ones. The winter won’t be so bad.’_

He could feel his heart being pulled forward by that yearning that he had never been able to conceal. His master had seen right through it, and mocked him for it. He had always wanted a family with Bellatrix, he had always believed that, after the war, they would have at least one child together, a little Lestrange heir. It had never come to be, but the yearning was still there. It had never come to be, but Bella had had a child, anyway, a little girl that he could cherish as his now that the war was well and truly over.

Delphini, named after the night sky, a new star to replace her mother in Rodolphus’ firmament.

Rodolphus was close to being sixty, but his body had found a new source of energy. That yearning drove him, tugging him forward, to her. He had a mission, and he would entrust it to no one this time. So he followed, careful not to be seen, even more careful not to be recognised by people passing by.

When Narcissa came to a halt and adjusted her cloak, Rodolphus realized she was about to Apparate home. Throwing all care to the wind, he ran, taking hold of her hand in the very last moment.

“It’s just me, Cissa,” he said, before the void swallowed them both, as Narcissa turned right.

oOo

Their landing was not swift, nor proper. Rodolphus was more than slightly off balance by the time he touched ground, and Narcissa hurried to move away from him.

“Cissa, it’s fine,” he said, from the lawn where he had landed, backside first. “I mean no harm. I can’t Apparate to Rowle House. I just want to see Delph-”

“Hush, don’t say it.” Narcissa was upon him in a second, crouching by his side, her fingers on his lips. “I don’t know what would happen if the world knew of her.”

“You’re home, Cissa. Who’s going to listen?”

“There are other people here, Dolph, my son’s wife and their little boy. We can’t risk it.”

Rodolphus laughed, throwing his head back. He laughed like he had no memory of doing, loudly, until he had tears of mirth running down his face. The Malfoys had, once more, escaped unharmed, and here stood Narcissa, in her fine dress and cloak, telling her brother-in-law, dressed in hand-me-downs, that she could not risk pronouncing a little girl’s name.

Then, the dark doors to the Manor opened with clamour, as Lucius Malfoy himself, pristine in his anger, emerged from his lair and stalked down the steps. He wrapped one arm round Narcissa’s waist, and Rodolphus felt a pang inside, as he had no one to wrap his arms around.

Not yet.

“Dolph? What are you doing here? Are you mad?”

“You could say so, Lucius. It must be madness to look for one’s family after getting out of prison.” He stood as he spoke; pulling out his wand and putting his clothes back to rights. “I’m not looking for a place to live, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m just looking for her.”

All colour vanished from Lucius’ face at that, his proud façade shattered, and his body actually trembled.

“We-we couldn’t keep the girl, Rodolphus. We let Euphemia raise her,” he explained, not daring to look him in the eye.

“It’s alright, darling. Go inside, make sure the others stay out of the way. I’ll talk to Dolph,” Narcissa said, her voice even, her hands soothing on her husband’s face.

Rodolphus watched, mouth agape, as Lucius became a shadow of himself and walked inside without saying another word.

“He is terrified of her, Dolph.”

“Still?”

“Always.”

“How is she, then? Does Euphemia take good care of her?”

“I haven’t seen her in years.” Narcissa’s eyes fell from his, and her hands came together in front of her. “It wasn’t safe for us, Dolph, you must understand. We pay her, but we never see them anymore. Come inside, I’ll explain-”

“No. Just take me to the house, Cissa.”

“Dolph, it had to be this way,” Narcissa said, tears brimming her eyes, “it’s how it was supposed to be, anyway. No contact.”

“You haven’t seen her in years, Narcissa. Years! I understand that you couldn’t raise her yourself, not with Lucius being that scared of a baby. But to just let her go?”

“I didn’t let her go, Rodolphus,” the anger in her voice was almost palpable then, “I provided for her as best I could. I sent gifts, and books, and clothes. She’s my niece! Don’t you dare accuse me of not taking care of my family. I kept them out of prison.”

“You didn’t keep _me_ out!”

“Because you didn’t stay here like you were supposed to! Just like before, you just had to go rogue. You went, and you fought, and you’re the one that gave her to Euphemia. I could have raised her, just as secretly, if Euphemia hadn’t closed her claws around her by the time we got back!”

Rodolphus was stunned into silence. His anger was not quieted though, still coursing through his veins in furious pulses. But his serenity saw a way out, pushing down the turmoil in his mind, bringing forth the grief that had weighed him down for so long now. He missed Bella, and he sorely missed that precious child of hers. If there was a way, he had to seize it now.

He forced the air in and out of his lungs, slower with every cycle. He looked down, to the pocket where he kept his wand. It had just been checked, and he could feel the weight of his allowance in the other pocket. This was his chance. They wouldn’t notice his absence for another two weeks, and that was plenty of time to vanish with his treasure.

“Can you take me to her, Cissa? Please. I can’t go on my own, I don’t know why.”

Narcissa nodded, taking a couple of steps forward.

“I’m the Secret Keeper, Dolph. The house wasn’t safe for her without a Fidelius Charm.” She took his hand at that, looking him square in the eye, and space whirled around them, sucking them into a place where time seemed to stop and only the world outside moved.

oOo

They landed just outside a manor house, in the middle of what had once been an impressive garden, Rodolphus remembered that much. The house looked as decrepit as the gardens, and he heard the breath catch in Narcissa’s throat.

“How long, Cissa?”

“Nearly six years,” her voice trembled, “we didn’t part in amicable terms last time. You won’t want me here for this. Will you take her away?”

“I will, Cissa. I’m taking her with me, to some place faraway from all the ghosts. I’ll take care of her. We won’t write, but we may find another way. Go, now. You’ve done enough.”

“Please find a way, Rodolphus. I’ll help you.” Narcissa stepped away, holding back her tears, her head still held high. She took one long glance at the house, probably hoping to catch a glimpse of a little girl at the windows, and then briskly turned right.

Rodolphus watched as her cloak twirled in a pretty circle, revealing the white dress she had on underneath. She was gone then, and it was his turn to look up to the house. No glimpse of a little girl for him, either, but a very clear picture of a grown witch staring at him from the first floor, framed by dark curtains.

Euphemia’s husband had not survived Azkaban, there was no telling of how she would react to him, but he figured that not being attacked on sight wasn’t a bad start.

He walked to the door, and a scrawny looking House-Elf opened it for him. Euphemia was upon him immediately, her wand under his chin, painfully poking into his neck.

“What do you want?” Euphemia seethed. “Why did you live when Thorfinn did not?”

“I just want to see her,” Rodolphus said, bringing his hands up and showing his palms.

“Her? I should have guessed. If it weren’t for the Malfoy’s money, she would’ve long been gone.”

And Rodolphus hated her entirely for the disdain in her words. He saw through the witch’s unguarded mind, he saw the hatred, he saw the jailor she had become, what she had done to his precious girl. What he had let her do, by placing Delphini in her arms that day.

His cunning mind got a hold of his fury, reining it in before it could be unleashed. He would have his fresh start with Bella’s daughter, and he wouldn’t let the world stop him.

“Just let me inside, Euphemia.”

She did, moving the wand away from his neck but not lowering it completely. Rodolphus looked around the entrance hall. The manor was sombre, but not like his childhood home had been.

This place was as devoid of hope and love as Azkaban had been. Though there were no Dementors, the same misery clung to the walls. There was no sea bashing against the rocks, no, the music to this prison was a bird’s song, a wallowing cry.

“Where is she?”

“Somewhere. So long as she does not set foot outside or into my rooms, I don’t care much. The elf feeds her. She’s old enough to take care of herself.”

Then, he saw her. A skinny, little creature of grey eyes hidden by wild curls of black hair, fearfully peeking at the doorway. And the howl of pain that had sounded inside him for a decade now became silent.

She was here. His treasure of a child was here, just within reach, and she looked exactly like what he’d thought she would, and nothing like he’d dreamed of.

She was dressed in a slate grey dress, which had once been properly blue and was now faded and worn thin. She was shivering in that too-short dress, barefoot, breathing quickly, half-hidden from him, but entirely hopeful. A little bird fallen from its nest. A miniature of Bella in looks, but none of her defiance. Only fear, only a girl starved of everything.

Delphini looked at him with pleading eyes, and Rodolphus was enraged. This girl was not meant to beg, ever, and it made his blood boil that she had been reduced to something so twisted.

His fingers tingled, hungry for his wand. His heart raced, ready for the fight. But his stealth was something that Azkaban had taken a toll on, and Euphemia saw right through him.

"I could've killed you anytime I wished," came Euphemia’s voice from behind him, “I saw you arrive with that traitor, I saw everything. I let you inside, but I’m not letting you out.” Her breath touched his ear and moved through his hair.

"Then what are you waiting for?" His serenity left him, for good. Rodolphus turned on his heels, facing the witch and looking into her eyes. “You hate me for surviving your weak husband, why did you let me live this long, if you meant to kill me all along?”

“I wanted you to see her. I wanted you to know that she’s a failure, too. Her child is not up to the task-”

Rodolphus lunged then. Magic and wand forgotten, he lunged for the witch and wrapped his hands around her throat, lifting her off the floor, and walking with her hanging from his hands to the nearest wall.

Delphini didn’t make a sound, merely watched, almost in awe, as Rodolphus strangled the woman that had mistreated her. Rodolphus spared a moment to think whether her spirit had been so thoroughly broken that there was no fight left in her, only to have his doubts removed.

The elf popped into the room with a crack and swiftly levitated a lamp, throwing it at him. Rodolphus dodged, using Euphemia’s struggling body to shield his, and before the elf could throw anything else at him Delphini was by its side, hands above her head, holding a glass up high.

Rodolphus watched as Delphini crashed the glass into the elf’s skull. Not content, and with a scream that must have been locked inside for years, she splayed her hands out in front of her and tossed the elf across the room in a single surge of magic that shook the walls.

Euphemia had stopped struggling by the time Rodolphus arms started to hurt from holding her weight. He let go, not bothering to look as the body crumpled to the ground. He walked, mesmerised, towards the little girl in the ruins of a dress, and kneeled before her.

His heart yearned, and his arms ached, but his soul had finally stopped screaming. He had his treasure.

“Did the nice lady in white send you? She used to come, and she was always very nice to me,” Delphini’s voice was unsure, little above a whisper, yet it resounded in him, “never like Mrs. Rowle. Mrs. Rowle doesn’t like it when I use my magic. She starves me, and makes me cold so that I can’t, but sometimes I’m so angry it works anyway. I don’t want to be here when she wakes up.” She sobbed, but she tried to hide it, the same way she now hid her hands behind her. Her eyes never left his, though.

“She’s not waking up. I’m taking you away, Delphini,” he said, “to somewhere very far, where no one will hurt you.”

The little girl smiled, then, and it was the most wondrous thing Rodolphus had ever seen. He procured an object from his pocket, and couldn’t help but be hurt at the way Delphini instantly recoiled.

“I have something for you, Delphini. Here,” he said, extending a key.

Delphini walked towards him, closing the gap in between them. Her bony hands reached for the key, exploring its dents and curves, twisting it in her long fingers.

“What does it open?”

“Home.”

oOo

They arrived half frozen, despite all of Euphemia and Thorfinn’s clothes that Rodolphus had altered so that they would fit them. The first snow had fallen on them as they flew through the night, nothing but the stars to guide them. Delphini had loved the flight, laughing in pure glee as she clung to him, the two of them astride a Thestral.

They had landed on the mountain. With the snow that had fallen already, the graves of the Muggles Rodolphus had forcibly dislodged in very Muggle ways were not visible anymore. He took to work immediately, under Delphini’s amazed staring, putting up shields and charms. This would be their safe haven, and no one would find them here.

The Ministry would soon forget about him. They would presume him dead perhaps, even if they would bother looking for him for a while before. There was no trace on him, and no trace on his little treasure. They were all alone, and perfectly safe for it.

Once the little cottage was properly hidden, Rodolphus prompted Delphini to unlock the door, while he unbuckled the saddle and the saddlebags off the Thestral.

Delphini had wanted to bring nothing but old wands and books at first, but Rodolphus had soon realized that her disinterest in clothing was actually fear of stepping inside Euphemia’s rooms. So he had piled all the clothes he could find in the library, and happily sorted through them with Delphini, changing them to her whim, including his.

There was happiness in his little girl, despite all that must have happened to her, and his heart soared high above the mountain as she ran about the cottage, marvelling in the warmth and the cosiness, and the food in the cupboards, and all the rooms she was free to move about in.

She marvelled in his use of a wand. He marvelled in her absence of one. They moved furniture about for three days straight, until it felt right. They camped by the fireplace as well, because Delphini craved the heat.

Slowly, they settled into their days. Slowly, Delphini started to come closer every time, until she felt comfortable being hugged, and kissed on the crown of her head, and started hugging back, and kissing his cheeks with her arms wrapped around his neck. Rodolphus loved the way she smelled like roses, like Bella used to, and the way she would dance about him as he cooked, talking all the time now.

One day, she called him ‘Father’ tentatively, and Rodolphus stopped mourning what could have been and started living again, for her.

"Is there something wrong with us?" His little girl asked one night, while they cuddled by the fire, books in hand and the smell of tea brewing around them.

“What do you mean, treasure?” He liked calling her that, he liked that it never failed to make her smile.

“How come we have to live in secret, you and I?”

“There was a war. We lost,” he replied, looking down into those wide grey eyes of hers, as wide and grey as her mother’s had been. “The world doesn’t like to be reminded of that war. The world doesn’t like that we still exist, but they can forget about us if we stay here.”

“So if they forget, we’ll be left alone? They won’t hurt us?”

Rodolphus nodded. There was much more to it, he knew, but he could tell her later. They had time, now. And with the same composed and controlled manner of his long dead master, Delphini nodded once, understanding.

There were bits of him in her, too, but Rodolphus could never quite hide his smile when they emerged, for they were always quickly overtaken by the bits of her mother. She, too, had been a jealous creature.

It snowed on the mountain for long months. And under the white blanket, they began to live again.

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill, I thrive on feedback.  
> Also, I went back to the forum at FF, so... yeah, more oneshots  
> Prompts and Challenges  
> Assignment #1 Dentistry: Tooth Care 101 Task #3 - Mouthwash: Write about a fresh start  
> Yearly Challenge 360 Yearning  
> Insane Prompt List 203 Dialogue “There was a war. We lost”  
> January Writing Club Assorted Appreciation 13 I'm Home - Write about moving into a new home; Trope of the Month 8 Item Key; The Fabulous World of Comics 26 (Plot point) searching for a lost child; Book Club 6 The King - (character) Lucius Malfoy, (object) glass, (word) broken, (word) superior; Showtime 4 1876 - (word) Luxury ; Amber’s Attic 22 Nephthys: Write about finding comfort after losing a loved one; Elizabeth’s Empire 2 "I could've killed you anytime I wished." // "Then what are you waiting for?"; Liza’s Loves 13 "Is there something wrong with us?"; Scamander’s Case 19 (color) grey; Film Festival 7 (plot point) killing someone;   
> Winter Seasonal Challenge: Days of the Year January 1st - New Year's Day: Write about a new beginning; Slytherin Challenge Character 23 Rodolphus Lestrange; History of Winter 8 Prompt: Write about being reborn or having a new start; Star Chart Annular Solar Eclipse Prompt: Write about having only one chance to do something; Colours 4 Slate; Winter Challenge 1 Draft  
> WC 5072


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